


the river's running low (where it used to overflow)

by bloodredcherries



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, FP Jones II's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, M/M, Moving In Together, Past Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Protective FP Jones II, Protective Jughead Jones, Protective Veronica Lodge, Sad Veronica Lodge, Slow Burn, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodredcherries/pseuds/bloodredcherries
Summary: “We have room,” he said, quietly. “It’s small, and it’s not the greatest, but I don’t think my dad would mind.” He shrugged. “He appreciates what you’ve done for him, you know, giving him the job here, taking a chance on him. It would be better than here. I love Pop’s,” he told her. “But even I wouldn’t sleep here.”





	1. so far so good (and i'll tell you the story)

Jughead Jones had never before borne witness to ‘rescued my ex-girlfriend who I had a child with that was the mother of your girlfriend from a cult’ to mean  _ spend hours that he could be sleeping but was instead listening to the sound of headboards banging against walls and bed springs squeaking _ , but, well, what the hell did he know about cults, or fixing the Cooper women, or anything, really? There was clearly something wrong with him. 

 

He and Betty had ended things roughly around the time that Alice and Polly had gone missing, so he was honestly surprised that his father had even managed to find Alice, not that either of them had so much as acknowledged him upon their arrival to the trailer earlier that evening. He feared they would need to be surgically removed from each other’s lips at some point. 

 

Betty had insisted that finding herself meant actually finding herself, but he wondered if finding herself actually meant finding herself in the arms of Archie Andrews, whose father had been able to take Betty in (even though he hadn’t been allowed to foster Jughead, which made Jughead wonder how hard he’d even tried) when Edgar Evernever had kidnapped the Cooper matriarch. Whatever. Who was Jughead to judge? 

 

The moans coming from his father’s bedroom were really too much for him to bear. Was nothing sacred anymore? Jughead scowled, shoved off his covers, and put on the clothes he had taken off in the hopes of getting some sleep, shoved his beanie on his head, and his laptop into his backpack, and made the executive decision to go to Pop’s. At the very least there was coffee there. And food. His father’s divorce had gone through, and Gladys had deigned to pay child support, which meant that Jughead had an allowance. It was still a bewildering concept to him. 

 

Taking his keys off the hook, he closed the door behind him, a scowl on his face as he climbed into his dad’s truck, wishing he could rid his subconscious of the things that he’d heard. He was thankful that he hadn’t seen them. 

 

He reminded himself that it was a good thing that Alice had been rescued from the Farm, whether he was speaking to Betty, or not, and whether he approved of his father’s methods of returning her to rationality, or not. And if Alice and Dad were going to move their relationship to the present, maybe it was best for all that he and Betty had made their decisions. He still hoped he didn’t run into her and Archie at the diner.

 

The diner was empty, save for himself, Veronica, and Pop, and Jughead breathed a quiet sigh of relief. There was the possibility that he could sleep in his favorite booth without being interrupted by the other patrons, who he supposed were well meaning but he just found to be annoying. Pop knew about his general circumstances, and he wasn’t sure if Veronica had lumped him in with Archie by default after they had also broken up (their breakup had been more acrimonious than his and Betty’s, and he felt Archie had been entirely too cruel), but since that summer night, he had rarely heard from his raven-haired friend. He was actually relieved to see that she was still alive, she’d been so silent.

 

“Evening, Jughead,” Pop said, and he offered him a wave. “I’ll have Veronica bring over your usual,” he added. “Is that alright?”

 

“It’s fine, Pop,” he said tiredly, managing to stifle a yawn. “I’ll just be at my booth.” He slid into the familiar booth, and dropped his backpack on the seat beside him, before dropping his head on to his arms. His bedtime background noise had given him a bit of a headache. He had just about drifted off when the aroma of coffee filled his nostrils, followed by the faint scent of Veronica’s perfume, which mingled with the delicious aromas of the diner. 

 

“Mr. Tate told me that I should join you,” she said, her tone apologetic. “He thinks that I work too hard.” She sighed. “Don’t tell me that your dad is drinking again?”

 

Jughead shook his head. “No, nothing as quiet and respectful as that,” he sighed. “Look, don’t tell anyone, because I don’t think that Betty knows this. I’m not even sure if she cares. She didn’t seem to be that bothered when she went missing.” Betty had seemed to think that if her mother had gone to the farm, it was perfectly acceptable for her to stay there. It had not been a position that he had understood, given the years he had spent wanting to have his family back together. “My dad, he found her. Alice.” 

 

“And? Is she freaking out?” 

 

“No, they seem to be getting along well,” he sighed, running his hand over his face. “I am pretty sure that they’re  _ rekindling _ things still. Every time I thought they would stop…” He pulled a face. “The walls of the trailer are thin, and Betty’s mother? Doesn’t just scream through the pages of the Register.” It had been scarring. “But, I suppose it’s good that she’s safe, and that they are getting along.” 

 

“You don’t have to worry about me telling Betty,” Veronica said, letting out a sigh. “She’s still mad at me for not accepting Archie back with open arms, after the things that he  _ said _ about me. Blaming me for my dad getting him arrested? Like I didn’t warn him?”

 

“It really upset me how she didn’t even wait a week before moving on to him,” Jughead said honestly. “I really thought that we had something special, and it was like it meant nothing to her. I just don’t understand. I get that what her father did screwed her up, but--”

 

Veronica laughed, though it was rather bitter. “It’s always going to be an excuse with her,” she said. “You think your parents didn’t screw you up? You think mine didn’t? We somehow manage to get through life without alienating everyone we know and using that as an excuse when the going gets tough for us. If we even tried, we’d get vilified.” 

 

“I think she has issues, outside of that,” he admitted. “I’m not using it as an excuse to justify her behavior,” he added. “I just...I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it anymore.” 

 

“My dad is in a good place,” he said, regretting the comment the second he’d made it, as he saw Veronica smirk. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he added. “I’m trying to learn how to be in charge of the Serpents, my mother and Jellybean came into town, I just...Betty  _ changed _ on me. She changed on all of us.” He shrugged. “It’s whatever. People make fun of me as it is. Could you imagine the ammunition I would have given them if I was dating Dad’s girlfriend’s daughter?” He sighed. “It’s not like I didn’t know that we weren’t destined for forever, anyways.”

 

“Jellybean? She’s your sister, right?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, before taking a bite of his burger. “It was nice to see her.” He gave Veronica an appraising glance, noticing that she looked plain exhausted. The pearls were gone, and her normally manicured nails were chipped and broken beyond recognition. Her undereye circles rivaled his from his time spent sleeping in the school supply closet, and she had clearly lost some weight that, well, Jughead didn’t really think she could afford to lose. He pushed over his milkshake. “You can have that, if you want. The sound of bedsprings is burned into my brain, and it’s making me lose my appetite.”

 

This was a lie. It was true that Dad and Alice having sex had been scarring to Jughead, but nothing, not even what only his father considered to be  _ deconditioning _ would stop him from having a never-ending appetite. Maybe it stemmed from never knowing when he could eat again? Maybe he was growing? He didn’t know. But, he knew that Veronica needed to eat. And if a little white lie helped her feel less guilty about eating his food? She never had to be the wiser. 

 

“Did anyone know?” Veronica asked, after a moment of silence, as she sipped the milkshake, and he politely texted his father to inform him that he was at Pop’s, on the off chance that the older man emerged from his bedroom (and his woman) to find him missing. “When you lived at the Twilight?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, and he sighed. “My dad. As far as I knew, he never said a damn word.”

 

Veronica’s gaze was thoughtful. Jughead’s (in turn) was worried. 

 

“Why do you ask?” He queried. “A little latent guilt about causing me to lose another home?” 

 

“I was wondering,” she said, taking another sip of the drink. “Would his silence about… alternative living situations extend to others?”

 

“What are you talking about?” 

 

Veronica stared at her nails. “I may or may not have a room in the Speakeasy.”

 

“What?” Jughead had understood her words, but was having trouble trying to make sense of them. “What happened?”

 

“I couldn’t do it anymore,” she said, and she took another sip of milkshake. “I couldn’t live in that house, with that  _ man _ , while my mother pretended that he wasn’t a criminal and that he hadn’t  _ implicated _ someone I care about in a murder investigation because he was  _ mad at me that day _ . Isn’t that so fucked up? So...they let me go,” she shrugged. “Told me to keep things quiet. They didn’t want to screw up their appearances.” 

 

“Why didn’t you…” He trailed off. He knew why. “Betty’s house was empty?”   
  


“So I could watch her and Archie fuck the summer away? I don’t think so.” 

 

It was a stupid idea, and Jughead knew it was. He knew that his offer was going to be a major downgrade for Veronica, who was a Lodge, not someone who would be content to slum on the Southside, in a semi-burnt-out trailer park. But, still. She was his friend. And he couldn’t in good conscience let her live in the basement of Pop’s. Even his soup can of a trailer with his unrefined father (and (oh did he shudder inwardly) the recovering Alice Cooper) had to be an improvement. At the very least there would be a shower. A television. A door that locked. 

 

Plus, when his father noticed Veronica’s living arrangement, they’d both be in for a disappointed lecture when he found out he’d known. FP Jones wasn’t the greatest parent, far from it, but he also wasn’t unobservant. He had been homeless once, too. 

 

“We have room,” he said, quietly. “It’s small, and it’s not the greatest, but I don’t think my dad would mind.” He shrugged. “He appreciates what you’ve done for him, you know, giving him the job here, taking a chance on him. It would be better than here. I love Pop’s,” he told her. “But even I wouldn’t sleep here.”

 

“You’d really do that for me?” Veronica asked, her voice small. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”   
  


“I know what it’s like to need a place to stay,” he told her. “A step up. I want to do that for you.” 

 

She came around the booth to give him a tight hug. “If you’re  _ sure _ your dad won’t mind.”

 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll tell him you’re there to make sure he’s accountable.” He was only teasing. “It will be alright,” he promised. “I’ll talk to him.”

 

“What about Mrs. Cooper?” Veronica asked. “I know she doesn’t really like me. I don’t want to send her back to that cult by my mere presence.”

 

“I think…” Jughead sighed. “I think that you’ll find, we’re all equally broken.”


	2. all my memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s quiet in here,” she whispered. “Do you think they went looking for you?”

Veronica had only been in the Joneses’ trailer once before (it seemed like a lifetime ago -- she and Archie, searching the place, finding nothing -- was it really possible it hadn’t even been a year), and she felt herself wondering why Jughead had taken pity on her and let her move in with them. It wasn’t as if they were particularly close. The trailer was small, but it looked as if the Joneses had put in an effort since her last visit. It made sense, she supposed, it was their home.

 

“It’s quiet in here,” she whispered. “Do you think they went looking for you?”

 

Jughead shrugged his shoulders. “I doubt it. Dad is kind of used to me being out at all hours. He really doesn’t mind, as long as he knows where I am. If he even notices. Alice…” He trailed off. “Who even knows her anymore?” He sighed. “I suppose that I should make sure that they’re  _ not _ out looking for me, now that you mention it. You can put your stuff down here and come with me, if you want.”

 

Veronica really didn’t want to come off as a voyeur, spying on Mr. Jones and Mrs. Cooper, but, at the same time, she really didn’t want to stand there in the middle of the living room, looking every bit a fish out of water, and have the two of them come into the house and find her standing there. So, she elected to follow Jughead down the hallway to where the bedrooms were, trying very hard to be totally silent. He slowly opened the door that she remembered led to Mr. Jones’ room, and they peered inside. 

 

The room’s inhabitants were both soundly asleep, and, mercifully, they were also clothed. Veronica (who had very little desire to see two friends’ parents in a state of disrepair at the same time, and had been afraid that she was going to) breathed a sigh of relief. They were sort of sweet together, she decided, if sweet was a word one could use to describe two people in their early forties who had utterly exhausted themselves having sex. She wasn’t sure if it was entirely accurate. Still, it was good to see that Betty’s mother was alive and well, or, at least, no longer at that screwed up farm. Veronica knew how much Alice Cooper meant to FP, and she was glad that the two of them were together again. Even if it meant that she did run the risk of getting a lecture from the older woman in the morning.    
  
Maybe the farm had changed Alice. Maybe she would take pity on her, and understand. She really didn’t know. 

 

“They look happy together,” Jughead murmured, and he shut the door to the room. “My mom and dad never looked like that. Not as far as I can remember.”

 

“My parents have never said that they loved each other,” Veronica offered. “You’re right, though, they do look happy together.” She sighed. “Are you going to tell him you’re home?”

 

“Nah,” he said. “I could, but it’s alright. I’d rather just go to bed.” 

 

“Where am I going to sleep?” She asked. It was a fair question. “Did you want me to sleep on the couch?” 

 

She watched him run a hand through his hair. “No, Ron, it’s alright,” he said. “I’ll take the couch. You can sleep in my room.” 

 

“Are you sure?” She really didn’t want to put Jughead out of his room, and his bed, for the evening, just because he’d happened to discover that she was living at the Speakeasy. It seemed selfish, and a little cruel. “I mean, I don’t mind sleeping on the couch,” she assured him. “I’d just get up in the morning and be out of everyone’s hair.” 

 

“When I invited you to stay, I meant for more than one night,” Jughead told her, his eyes tired, yet wide. “It’s okay to need help, to need a place to stay, V. I don’t want you sleeping on the streets, or in restaurant basements. I lived that life, and it was not fun. I don’t want that to happen to you. If you want to take the couch, that’s fine, I won’t stand in your way. I just don’t want you to feel that you’re not welcome here.”

 

They had returned to the living room, and Veronica sat on the couch, as she felt her eyes start to droop. Jughead sat down beside her. “I don’t feel like I’m welcomed anywhere, anymore,” she said after a moment. “My best friend and my ex-boyfriend are both blaming me for something that I knew nothing about, and then I find out that they’re screwing while they’re supposedly working on his case? Then we have my parents, who are both complicit in all these  _ horrible _ things, Jug, and I can’t stand to be around them.” She shook her head. “I wish that things could go back to how they used to be. Before my dad got out of jail, before the Black Hood...before everything. Now it just seems like everything is all screwed up.” 

 

“Life was never simple, though,” Jughead sighed. “Even before those things. It was always screwed up.”

 

“Did you always live here?” Veronica asked. He shook his head. 

 

“We used to live on the Northside,” he said quietly. “My dad worked with Mr. Andrews, he used to co-own his company with him. Then my mom got sick and the bills kept piling up and Dad started drinking again and he lost his job...we couldn’t afford to live there anymore. So we moved here,” he sighed. “My dad grew up in this trailer park,” he told her. “Not in this specific trailer,” he added. “It was our only option.” 

 

“Is that how you knew Archie and Betty?” She asked.

 

“Betty and Archie lived next door to each other,” he said. “Archie and I knew each other because our dads were close, Betty...well, honestly, Betty became our friend in spite of her parents. Even before he was a serial killer, Hal never really liked me.” He sighed. “Probably because he hated my dad. And, well, we all know Alice. It’s not like her controlling side magically created itself out of whole cloth when Polly got pregnant. She was...hard to like. Especially with her history with my dad.” 

 

“Do you think we would have been friends if we’d grown up together?” Veronica queried, keeping her voice soft, not wanting to wake up the occupants of the bedroom. “If we had moved back sooner?”

 

“I honestly don’t know,” he said. “Things were easier when I was a kid.” 

 

“I think they were easier for everyone,” she murmured, feeling her lids flutter shut. “Being a kid. I miss it.”

 

Veronica didn’t mean for her head to drop on to Jughead’s shoulder as she drifted off to sleep, but it did, and, as she slept soundly, so did he. She was exhausted, after all. Pop’s wasn’t exactly the place that one got a sound night’s sleep, no matter how much she wanted to protest Jughead’s insistence she stay with him. It was what friends did after all, she rationalized. They helped. She would have helped Jughead when he was homeless if he had ever asked. She was sure of it. 

 

She slept, soundly, until morning. 


	3. i’d give anything again to be your baby doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll do it,” she said. “What are you doing in my boyfriend’s trailer?”

“How are you feeling, baby?” FP asked Alice, his tone soft, and she shifted in his arms to look up at him. “You sleep well?”

 

“Yeah,” she said, after a moment of thought, as she pillowed her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat beneath her ear. “I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough for what you did,” she whispered. “Thank you for rescuing me, and bringing me home.” 

 

“Don’t have to thank me, babe,” he chuckled, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m honestly just glad that you’re alright. That you were willing to come home with me.” 

 

“And you’re okay with me staying with you?” Alice asked. “I just can’t face going into that house, FP. I could have died there. And Elizabeth doesn’t even seem to be bothered about my being missing.” 

 

“Stay as long as you want,” he whispered, kissing her temple again. “You know that I don’t mind sharing my bed with you, and my house. And my life, if that’s what you want.” 

 

“Yes, I want that,” she insisted. “I’ve never wanted anything more.” He grinned down at her. “I just hope that Jughead will be okay with my being here,” she sighed. “How unfortunate that he and Elizabeth ended things.” She wrinkled her nose. “Is she really shacking up with Archibald? I really can’t abide by that.” 

 

“Think you just need to let it go, at least, for now,” he mumbled. “Hopefully he’ll be sentenced and she’ll see sense.” Alice smacked FP on the shoulder. “Ow, babe! What?”

 

“He is a teenager,” she scowled. “And the stupidest person to walk this earth. Do you honestly think the whole town wouldn’t have known if that moron my daughter is sucking face with had murdered someone?” 

 

“You might have a point,” he admitted. “But, babe, don’t worry about Jug. He’s a good kid. I don’t think he’ll even notice.”

 

Alice blushed at the pet name, and she snuggled closer to him as he carded his fingers through her hair, her eyelids drifting shut once more. It was nice being able to lay in bed beside FP and not have to worry about husbands or wives walking in on them, or existing at all. Sierra McCoy had pushed through the divorce, leaving Alice with untold sums of money, the entirety of the Register, and various other things that the Farm had tried to tell her to leave behind, but the part of her that was from the Southside and knew that these things meant respectability and freedom strongly approved of. And FP was divorced now, too. Not that Gladys had lived nearby. But it was nice to know that their relationship could be above the board. And she wanted a relationship with him. She had loved FP for a very long time. 

 

The Farm had been a mistake from the very beginning, and Alice had realized that shortly after she and Polly had gotten there, though she had found it unbelievably difficult to make a break for it, especially when it became clear that what Alice and anyone with the slightest bit of sanity and clarity would view as red flags -- Polly viewed as Jason-given-gospel. She had been torn between wanting to get the hell out of dodge, and wanting to protect her daughter. 

 

In the end, she had protected herself. Maybe that was selfish of her. But it was true. 

 

“What about Forsythia?” 

 

“She comes home before school starts,” he said after a moment. “I don’t think that she’ll mind, Al. She always liked you.” He kissed her again. “I like you, though. That’s the most important part.”

 

“I like you, too,” she whispered. “You realize we are the two biggest hypocrites on the planet, yes? How are we ever going to lecture our children about using protection when we did what we did last night?” She giggled. 

 

“Easy, babe. We’re the adults, and they’re the children.” She kissed him once more. “God, Al, wouldn’t it be amazing if something  _ did _ happen last night?” His tone was soft, and she ran her fingers across his scruff. “A little family…” 

 

“Maybe it did,” she mused, as his hand found its way to her abdomen, which was softer than she wanted it to be after having three children, not that FP complained about the additional curves that childbearing had given her. (Such an improvement over Hal, who was bad in bed and constantly offering to pay for her to get cosmetic surgery to ‘improve’ herself.) “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, honey?” 

 

“Yeah,” he said. She snuggled closer to him, relieved when he held her tightly. “I want you to have everything. I know that we can’t change the past, Allie, but I want so badly to have a future with you. With the kids. With you on my arm, and a ring on your finger. I want you to be my wife. Maybe not right away, but, eventually.” 

 

“Mrs. Jones. I like the sound of that.” She tugged the blankets over them. The air conditioner was on in the trailer, and she was a little cold. “Tell me, FP,  what possessed you to take me on as your latest project?”

 

“I love you. More than anyone I know.” 

 

“Say it again?” 

 

“I love you.” He pressed a kiss to her chin. “More than anyone. Love you.” 

 

“God, FP, I love you too.”    
  


“I could lay in bed with you forever,” he admitted. “I mean, until I got hungry.” He nuzzled at her. “You’re gorgeous.” His fingers traced patterns on her bare skin, underneath her shirt, and she practically purred. “Like that, Allie cat?” She hummed contentedly. “You showin’ off your tattoos all of a sudden?”   
  


“Don’t see the point in covering them up,” she said. “Minus my Serpent tat,” she allowed. “That’s for your eyes only.” 

 

“Damn straight it is,” he agreed, and Alice smiled. “I mean, I  _ guess _ you could show it off in a bikini or something, cos that would be hot as hell, but other than that...my eyes only.” 

 

“Where would I be wearing this bikini?” She asked, as she wanted to discount the idea wholesale, but FP saying that she would be attractive in his eyes if she did so...well, that was tempting. “Do you have an idea in mind?”    
  


“Dunno,” he said. “Sure we could find a place.” 

 

“Well,” she said. “I suppose if you find a place, I will find a bikini.” 

 

“Find?” He asked, his voice low in her ear. “A gorgeous girl like you?”   
  


“Would have exposed what a low class person her husband had married had she worn one around him,” she muttered. “What would people have thought of me?” 

 

“You’re not low class,” FP told her. “You never were, and you never will be. Screw him for making you feel like that.” 

 

“Every day that we were together,” she allowed. “He made me be feel like that.” 

 

He wrapped his arms around her. “I never want you to feel that way again. Al, if I ever make you feel that way…”

 

“Even at your worst, you never did.” Alice threaded her fingers through his. “You could  _ never _ be like him, Jonesy. Not even if you tried.” 

 

“I know that I’m not the best man, Alice,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I wasn’t the best father to Jughead and Jellybean, I fucked up my marriage, I’m 41 and I’m finally functional enough to try to be a fucking adult and I still don’t know if I can do that. I’ve fucked up so much. So many second chances. I don’t even know how the hell you’ve forgiven me for everything I’ve done to you.” 

 

“You’re not the only one who’s screwed up,” she said. “Look at me. One daughter in a cult, the other living with someone who is going to be on trial for  _ killing _ someone, the child I gave up for adoption ended up getting fucked over because I was too fucking selfish to let him into my life...I was hoodwinked by a  _ stranger _ that had  _ killed  _ him, the list goes on. At least you can  _ fix _ your issues. How can you fix what I’ve done? What I’ve become?”

 

He brushed her hair off her forehead. “C’mon, Allie. You’re not the devil, or anything. Don’t be beating yourself up for the kids decisions.” 

 

“Speaking of children,” Alice said, rather reluctant to move from the bed. “Should we get up and encourage Jughead to greet the day?” 

 

“I wouldn’t,” he warned. “Boy sleeps like the dead. Plus, he’d want you to cook if he got up.” 

 

“I don’t have a problem cooking for the two of you.” 

 

“I know you don’t,” he murmured. “There are just things I’d rather eat here.”

 

Alice arched a brow. “What are you getting at, Jones?” His hands ghosted upward, and nimbly cupped her breasts through the fabric of her t-shirt, and she keened softly at his touch. “Well, okay,” she allowed. “We can have breakfast in bed before our actual meal.” She was always so sacrificing for the ones that she loved. “Come here.” 

 

Their lips met in a delicious kiss.

  
  


***

  
  


When Veronica awoke, due to the sun filling the living room of Jughead’s trailer with late morning light, it took her a moment to adjust to her surroundings. She had been sleeping in the basement of Pop’s for so long, that the concept of being woken by daylight was a bit of a novelty to her. She stretched, wincing as she realized that she and Jughead had fallen asleep on the couch, still in their day clothes. She realized that it was the most restful sleep she’d gotten in months. Wasn’t that sad? Veronica thought so. 

 

Jughead was still sound asleep on the couch, and she couldn’t hear any sounds of life elsewhere in the trailer, so she decided to take her chances at a quick shower, as she realized rather quickly that she was the source of the smell of grease and breakfast food. The Jones men could wait for her to wash off the grime that had accumulated over the last few days before they reclaimed their bathroom, she decided to herself, bringing a change of clothes into the room with her, along with a towel she had claimed from the Pembrooke, and she locked the door before she turned the shower on, surprised when she saw the quality of the products in the bath. It appeared that someone had made an effort to supply an actual conditioner and body wash. She really hoped that it hadn’t been Jughead wasting his money on her, before the hot water woke her up to remember that she wasn’t the sole woman in the trailer, and that it was possible that FP had tried to provide the creature comforts for Alice. 

 

Veronica didn’t know what could be worse: FP or Jughead walking in on her, or Alice Cooper. 

 

She thanked the existence of locks for eliminating the possibility of her exploring either possibility as a reality. Still, the reminder of the lurking reporter did cause her to shower and dress quickly, not wanting to be caught in a state of disrepair. There was no love lost between her and Betty’s mother. To say they did not get along would be an understatement. 

 

She could already imagine what the woman would say to find she had shared a living space with a Lodge for the evening. 

 

Unfortunately for Veronica, even Alice at her worst was nothing compared to her parents. 

 

She neatened up the bathroom, wanting it to appear essentially untouched, and she threw her hair up in a bun, abandoning her thoughts of seeing if either FP or Jughead owned a blowdryer. She sensed the chances were slim, and the thought of bringing up the specter of Jughead’s mother potentially having left one was cruel, even for her. 

 

Quiet as a mouse, she retreated back to the living room, relieved that it was in the same state that she’d left it in, that being empty except for her snoring friend. There was no sign of either adult, though Veronica could see that both motorcycles and FP’s truck were parked outside. 

 

She did feel sort of ridiculous, being so freaked out. Despite everything her parents had done to him, Jughead’s dad was always perfectly nice to her. And Betty’s mother? She judged everyone and everything. Veronica certainly wasn’t going be excluded from that. Still. She felt nervous. She was nervous. 

 

There was a jar of coffee on the counter nearest the stove, and a coffee maker plugged in beside it, and she settled on something that she could do, which was make a pot of coffee for those who were still asleep, or (she shuddered) potentially otherwise occupied. 

 

While the coffee brewed, she sat down and paged through a magazine that was on the table, recognizing that it was a clear sign that her life had changed that she was actually giving a motorcycle magazine more than a glance of derision. Hermione and Hiram would be apolectic if they saw her now. Veronica didn’t much care. 

 

Jughead snored on the couch. Veronica paged through the magazine. In the background, she heard a bedroom door open. She cringed, recognizing the voices of FP and Alice (who else would they be, she reminded herself, you are in his trailer!), and she drew in a relieved breath when said voices stopped in front of the room she had recently exited. She chanced a glance into the hallway to see a flash of blonde hair as both adults entered the bathroom, sighing with relief when she heard the shower go on, even though she really did not want to think of those things. 

 

Maybe Jughead’s dad would make Betty’s mom happy though, her inner voice said, and she reluctantly decided to listen to it. Anyone would be an improvement on Hal Cooper, after all. The man was a serial killer. 

 

And, FP deserved to be happy, she reminded herself. He deserved to have Alice back in his life, no matter how terrifying Veronica found the woman, and no matter that she thought that their discovery of her was going to end her, and send her back to Pop’s, or worse, to Hiram’s. 

 

She eyed Jughead with jealousy. He was still asleep. 

 

Feminine laughter could be heard from the hallway, and if Veronica was still speaking to Betty, she would be texting her to inform her of the latest development, but that was clearly a ship that had sailed. It appeared that her current friend group consisted solely of Jughead. Who, was still blissfully snoring. 

 

She heard the door to the bedroom open, and close, and breathed a sigh of relief, before she noticed the presence of another in the Joneses’ kitchen. Alice Cooper stared at her, confusion written across her face, and Veronica Lodge wondered if it was possible to drop dead of fear and embarrassment at the same time. 

 

“You made the coffee?” The older woman asked. She wordlessly nodded. “That was nice of you.” 

 

“I can make you a cup?” She offered, though her voice was more of a squeak than the confident tone she’d intended. “I mean, if you want.”

 

“I’ll do it,” she said. “What are you doing in my boyfriend’s trailer?” 

  
  



	4. hit that bottom crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you even have to ask?” The older of the Forsythe Joneses wrapped his arms around Alice’s waist, and Veronica smiled to herself as she watched him rest his chin on Alice’s shoulder. “You know that I can’t say no to your cooking. Plus, I’m a growing boy, Allie. It would be cruel to let me starve.”

“Jughead said I could spend the night,” Veronica answered, rather reluctantly. “He seems to think that I shouldn’t be staying in the basement of Pop’s.” 

 

She watched as her statement sunk in (Alice Cooper paused in the middle of her search of the Joneses fridge, to emerge and peer at her), not really caring that she had just admitted the humiliating truth to the person that she had admitted it to. Veronica had really anticipated having this conversation with Jughead’s father. Not with his poison penned girlfriend. 

 

“Well of course you shouldn’t be doing that,” Alice said, her tone dismissive. “Why on earth would he think you are?” She watched her renew her search of the fridge. “Were the two of you discussing some sort of hypothetical scenario?” 

 

“Not as such,” she hedged. The older woman dragged a quart of cream from the fridge, and set it on the counter, before eying Veronica with tired eyes. “Pretty much the exact opposite of hypothetical.”

 

“What are you running away from?” There was no bite to Alice Cooper’s tone, no noises that indicated journalistic intent, and the look in her eyes had changed from tired to concerned, practically maternal. “Why would you stay in the basement of Pop’s?”   
  


“It was better than staying at home,” she admitted. “Where my parents treated me like I was evil incarnate for daring to object to them framing my ex-boyfriend for a murder he didn’t commit because I chose my friends over our sorry excuse for a family.” She sipped her coffee. “Then, when I needed my friends the most, they decided that I was just...I don’t know what they decided. Archie blames me for what my mom and dad did, and Betty will always pick him over me. No matter how hard I try.” 

 

“I own Pop’s,” she explained. “I bought it from my dad in exchange for ceasing my...involvement with his business dealings.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I ran into Jughead last night at Pop’s, and it came out that I was sleeping there,” she allowed. “He said that I could just stay here, that I didn’t have to live in a room beside my speakeasy.” 

 

“I see,” Alice said. “First of all, I do not profess to understand what is wrong with Elizabeth, or Archibald, for that matter, but I want to let you know that, had I been here, such behavior on either person’s part would have been verboten.” She shook her head, and Veronica watched her curls bounce as she did. “Second of all, I don’t see anything wrong with you staying here, as long as it is okay with FP.” Veronica let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Will you stop looking at me like I am an evil monster that’s going to toss you out on your ear? You’re not the only person here who is running away from things.” 

 

“I’m not used to people being nice to me,” she explained. “All they see is my parents. All you ever--”

 

“I understand  _ why _ you were looking at me like that,” she admitted. “I just feel that if we are going to be sharing a home we should probably start fresh. Over, if you will. For the sake of the boys.” 

 

Veronica felt like she was looking into a mirror, if her mirror-self was the (former) queen of the Northside, once put together with harsh words and pastel pencil skirts, never a hair out of place, now sat on the chair opposite Veronica in a kitchenette on the Southside of town, clad in clothes that Veronica wasn’t even sure that Alice even owned. Sure, the sweatpants and hoodie that the woman had on were probably made of the finest materials, but Veronica was certain that Alice-Cooper-who-is-married-to-Hal-stay-away-from-those-people-Ronnie that she’d met upon her arrival in Riverdale would never be caught in such clothes in front of others. Then again, Veronica thought she’d never be bare faced and broken nailed in public. How things had changed. 

 

“Okay,” she said. “We can start fresh.” She paused. “Are you okay? I know--”

 

“I will be,” she answered. “I don’t know when. But I will be. I have FP. He’s helping.” She paused. “I came out to make breakfast.” 

 

“I can make it for everyone,” Veronica offered. “Really, I don’t mind.”

 

“Don’t you get enough of that at Pop’s?” Alice asked. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ve missed being able to cook for an adoring audience.” She stood, and she reopened the refrigerator. “How does french toast and eggs sound? With bacon and sausage?” 

 

“That sounds nice,” she decided. It did sound nice to have a real home-cooked meal. It had been awhile since she’d eaten food that wasn’t from the diner she owned. “Should I wake up Jughead?”

 

“Leave him be,” the familiar voice of FP Jones commanded, and Veronica offered him what she hoped was a polite, friendly, smile, but what she feared was in actuality a pained grimace. “The boy’ll wake up when the food’s up.”

 

“Veronica is going to be staying with us,” Alice informed him, in a tone that offered little room to argue, and Veronica tried to make herself invisible, as FP cast his gaze over to her, before he shrugged his shoulders. “She has found herself in an inopportune living situation.” 

 

“Not the first person who’d needed a bed ‘round here,” he said. “Most of the Serpents are staying at your place, though. I thought it would be better than seeing it empty. Fred was afraid you’d get robbed.” 

 

“How judgmental of him,” she sighed. “Oh, did you mean when the house was sitting empty? God forbid he have forced Elizabeth back in there. Well, I am certainly not going to stop them from living there. They have my full permission. Is that how you obtained my things?” 

 

“I brought them over before they moved in,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to deal with replacing your entire wardrobe, or something ridiculously expensive.” 

 

“You wanted my flat screen,” she corrected. The television in the living room of the trailer  _ had _ been newer than Veronica had expected. It being scavenged from Alice’s house explained that. She had assumed it had been from better times. If the Jones family had ever had those. “It’s okay, Jonesy.” She dipped closer to him. Veronica politely stared at the magazine. “What about my jacket?” She heard Alice question. 

 

“It’s in the closet,” he directed. “So, kid, what caused you to darken this side of the tracks?” 

 

“Jughead didn’t think I should sleep in the basement of Pop’s,” she muttered. “Said that I could have a place with you. Not  _ with  _ you,” she corrected herself. “In your home. But, I don’t need to,” she added hastily. “I can just...be out of your way.” 

 

“Not gonna make you leave,” he offered. “You’re Jug’s friend. I don’t entirely get that,” he admitted, his tone soft, and she watched him glance briefly out to the couch, where Jughead slept. “But I don’t get a lot of things about him,” he sighed. “You didn’t stomp his heart to pieces and you aren’t that pompous redheaded blowhard,” he continued. “No offense, Allie.” 

 

“I don’t take offense to the truth,” Alice murmured. “Call him that again.” 

 

“He is a blowhard,” he said. “Sticking his nose in where he doesn’t belong and ignoring people telling him to make smart choices, including myself.” 

 

“Archibald listens to no one, FP, I wouldn’t take his ignoring you to heart.” 

 

“I thought you would be proud of me,” he said. “I wasn’t even sober when I lectured him! He came into the Wyrm-- right, that’s not important. The point is that I don’t have a problem with you staying here,” he told her, and Veronica almost believed him. “Your parents think I’m trash, and that’s fine with me,” he continued. “You don’t see me getting children up on murder raps, though, and maybe I don’t understand your friendship with Jug, but I guess I have myself to blame. Not exactly the type of person that a guy wants to take his friends home to by the time you rolled into town. Fucked up a lot, and I’m trying to make it right. Not just with the kid,” he admitted. “With his sister, and with Alice, and, you know, you helped me out, too,” he pointed out. “You bought that diner and gave me my job back. So, I would never throw you out, or, whatever. I’m a jackass, but not that much of one.” 

 

“Just until I find a place to move into,” she said. 

 

“You are sixteen years old,” Alice commented, not even turning from the food she was cooking on the stove. “I beg to differ on you finding a place to move into.”

 

“Right!” FP chimed in. “What Alice said.” 

 

“The only place that  _ would _ have rented to you at your age is mostly burnt to the ground,” the older woman added, gesturing around her with a spatula. “And if you think I am allowing you to run the risk of being taken back by your parents, you have another thing coming.” Alice approached the table, and she peered at the day’s paper that was sitting there. “What is this? How is the Register printing?”

 

“Uh, don’t get mad,” he said. “Jug an’ some of the others, they thought that since it was yours again, they would make sure that it remained in print. Jug says that the paper is older than the town, or somethin’? He said that it would make you happy if they...kept writing it.”

 

“That was very sweet of him,” she murmured, and Veronica watched as she turned the paper over in her hands, which were shaking. “Very sweet. I’ll have to thank him. Them. I will.” 

 

“They’re good kids, Al,” he said. “Little rough on the edges, yeah, some of them, but they try.”

 

“Yeah, Jonesy, I know.” The paper was placed back down on the table, and Alice returned to the stove. “You hungry?”   
  


“Do you even have to ask?” The older of the Forsythe Joneses wrapped his arms around Alice’s waist, and Veronica smiled to herself as she watched him rest his chin on Alice’s shoulder. “You know that I can’t say no to your cooking. Plus, I’m a growing boy, Allie. It would be cruel to let me starve.” 

 

“You’re 41, Forsythe,” she corrected. “You’ve long stopped being a growing boy.” 

 

“Still, though, do you know what Jughead and I live on? TV dinners.” 

 

“Not with Veronica and I living here, you don’t,” she said smoothly. “You work at Pop’s, why on earth don’t you parlay that into an eating experience here that won’t clog your pores, or lead you to a premature death from a lack of general nutrients. What type of ...microwavable meals are we talking about?”

 

“Hormel,” he said. “The best deal in the store.” 

 

“Throw them all out,” she said. “Better yet. Veronica, dear? Could you dispose of those heinous things that FP considers to be appropriate sustenance? I would say donate them to a worthy cause, but I can’t think of a single soul who I despise enough.”

 

Veronica (who was always good at following commands) did as she was told. The frozen meals made their way into the trash, and she glanced over at her defacto guardians, only to see that the two of them had taken a break from their verbal back-and-forth to kiss each other, which she did find refreshing (compared to her parents own lack of love), but still felt vaguely uncomfortable watching, like she was intruding on a private moment. The two only pulled apart when the bacon on the stove started to pop. 

 

“Goin’ all out for us, eh, Allie?” 

 

“I shudder to think of what the three of you have been eating while I was away,” she replied, her tone businesslike. “Poor Veronica here, living in the basement of a diner, and then the two of you, with your  _ Hormel _ meals. We’re from the Southside, FP. That doesn’t mean that we need to eat like uncivilized wolves.”

 

“I’m from New York,” Veronica pointed out. 

 

“I went to school there,” Alice said, after a moment. “Columbia.”

 

“Why did you end up back here?” 

 

“Because, Veronica, what else could I have done?” She asked her. “The only reason that the Coopers paid for me to go there, including for my Master’s, was so that they could ride off to the sunset and enjoy their retirement out in California, leaving the paper in myself and Harold’s capable hands.” She sighed. “I suppose I could have stayed in the city and written for the Post, or the Daily News, or something. I used to fantasize about writing for the Times. But that’s all that that was. Just fantasies. The Register filled another fantasy of mine: having fiscal stability. Knowing where my next meal would come from. It was just unfortunate that it came at the expense that it did.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t realize.” 

 

“It’s not something I’m particularly fond of talking about,” she demurred. “Hello, Jughead. How kind of you to join us.” Jughead had clearly woken up, as he was standing in front of the entrance to the kitchen, his hair mussed from sleep, and his eyes blearied. “Breakfast will be served in a moment. In the meantime, perhaps you can sit down with Veronica?”

 

“Mornin’,” FP chimed in. “You remember Alice, right, Jugs?” 

 

“Yeah, Dad, I remember Alice,” he yawned. “Good to see you again.” He sat down in the chair beside Veronica, who poured him a cup of joe. “Thanks, Ron.” 

 

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Did you sleep okay?” Jughead nodded, though it was clear that he wasn’t fully awake. 

 

“Is Alice making bacon?” 

 

“Yes,” Alice replied. “I am making bacon. Along with eggs, and french toast. And sausage.” 

 

“Cool.” 

 

“I suppose.” 

  
  


***

  
  


There was a part of FP that felt like he was back in high school again, the part that was so in awe over the fact that Alice Smith was his girlfriend once more, but, he was forcing himself to temper that with the fact that they were full grown adults and needed to pretend to act as such. Or, well, mostly. 

 

“There are only three chairs,” Alice murmured, noticing a fact that until that moment had merely been a fact, and not a problem, but, well, with Alice and Veronica in the house, wanting to eat breakfast with him and Jughead at the same time, had managed to become one. “I can wait to eat,” she decided. 

 

“Or,” he said, his voice low in her ear, as he wrapped his arms around her in a protective hold, “you can sit on my lap, maybe?” 

 

“Yeah, alright,” she agreed. “This is still something that needs to be remedied before Forsythia comes home.” 

 

There were a lot of things that needed to be remedied by the time JB came home, at least, he thought they were, so he was sure that Alice would notice a billion more. She was better at noticing little details like that. “You want help, babe?”

 

“No, I have it,” she said, but she offered him a bashful smile as she did. “It’s alright, Jonesy. Why don’t you sit with the kids and talk to them, or something...try to wake Jughead up.” 

 

Jughead appeared to be sound asleep on the table, and FP sighed. “Think you may have to put the food down in front of him to get him to awaken. He’s not really a morning person.” He brushed a kiss against her lips before he  _ subtly _ brushed his knuckles  _ briefly _ across her abdomen. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that just because they’d had a night of wild, unprotected, sex, did not mean that that was going to result in a baby. It had just seemed so nice when Alice had talked about it. He couldn’t help hoping. 

 

“Go,” she encouraged. “I’m okay. I won’t leave.” 

 

“I’m glad to hear that, babe,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to. I love you.” 

 

“I love you, too,” she said. She pressed a kiss to his lips. “Be right over.”

 

FP could recognize a dismissal when he heard one, and he trudged over to the kitchen table, dropping down in the only seat that was empty. Jughead glanced up at him for a moment, grunting in acknowledgement. He shoved the copy of the Register under the pile of mail that had wandered onto the table (Alice’s reaction to it hadn’t escaped him), and he tugged his copy of Motorcyclist over. “Didn’t picture you to be a fan of this,” he told Veronica. “I mean, it’s no Easyriders, but...it’s not bad.”

 

“I’m not, not really,” she said. “I just needed something to do.”

 

“Yeah,” he said. He ran a hand down his shirt. “Not really much to do here,” he admitted. “It’s probably not a real safe place for you to be hanging around outside alone. I mean, the Serpents, we’ll protect you, Jug and I will make sure of it. I just don’t want you to get picked up by Minetta or something.” 

 

“My parents wouldn’t let him do that,” she scowled. “They are determined to pretend that I don’t exist, and the Sheriff picking me up would be a good example of the fact that I do very much exist.” 

 

“My dad kicked me out, too,” he offered. He really didn’t know why he was telling her that, but, it was the truth, and it was out in the open. “It’s when I fell into the Serpents, really. They protected me. No one else would.” He fiddled with a pen that had been on the table. “It sucks when your parents aren’t what they should be. I know it does. But you’ve got me now, and you’ve got Alice. We might not be perfect, or anyone’s idea of an ideal parent, but I promise that we’ll take care of you, like you’re our own.” 

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Veronica said. “Honestly, Mr. Jones. Letting me stay on the couch is good enough.”

 

“You’re not going to stay on the couch,” he told her. “You can take Jellybean’s room, and share with her when she gets here.” He cleared his throat. “You can just call me FP. I’m not really a Mr. Jones guy.” 

 

FP knew that Veronica, being a Lodge, was trained to treat adults with the utmost respect and class, which was why she defaulted to calling him Mr. Jones. He was sure that the only reason Alice was now Alice was because even Veronica knew better than to refer to Alice as Mrs. Cooper. He had to give her credit for that. For coming to the trailer at all. He was sure it wasn’t easy for her to do that. 

 

And then there was the whole thing with Alice. He wanted to go back to that farm and beat the fuck out of that Evernever jackass who had tried to bully his Allie into joining that cult. He was so angry about what had happened, it was only his very real fear that Alice couldn’t function on her own at the moment that was saving the cult leader’s ass.

 

“Breakfast is served,” she announced, setting down a plate in front of Veronica, and himself, and Jughead, though the latter’s was accompanied by a tender squeeze of his shoulder. “Time to get up, Jughead, or else your father might eat your food.” 

 

Jughead was up with a shot. He smirked, though he held off his laughter until Alice was sat on his lap, and he was able to muffle it with her hair.

 

“Food’s good, babe,” he informed her. “Gonna teach me?” 

 

“Yes,” she said. “Most definitely.” They lapsed into silence as they ate. FP vaguely remembered that people were supposed to talk during meals, at least in Northside land, but it seemed overrated. “FP? What is my mugshot doing on your wall?”

 

“What?” 

 

“You heard me.” 

 

“That’s my...murder board,” Jughead mumbled. “Sorry, Alice. I’ll take it down.” 


	5. i can bite my tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The solution to this is that we need to move back,” she said.

“Your...murder board.” The mention of the board was a painful memory of another life -- where Alice had been privy to the inner workings of a project of Elizabeth and Jughead’s, where she had been treated with respect and not as if her mere presence was an imposition, and she stabbed one of her eggs violently, taking out her anger at Elizabeth out on an innocent breakfast food. “Well, I don’t anticipate you or Elizabeth needing that any longer,” she said. “What, with her latest life choices.”

 

“I’m sure that Betty--”

 

“What?” Alice demanded, her eyes locking on the Lodge girl. “What could you possibly say about Elizabeth that could make me feel  _ any _ different about this current situation? All I ever wanted to do was keep my  _ children _ safe, and that  _ included  _ Polly and Elizabeth  _ never  _ understood that Polly needed  _ more  _ than she did. I didn’t want to leave and join that  _ cult _ and she  _ vilified  _ me for wanting to at least try to save Polly, and those  _ innocent _ babies.” 

 

“I was just going to say that I was sure that Betty...I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry.” 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Alice scoffed. “I don’t need them, either of them,” she said. “If Elizabeth wants to play happy families with  _ Archibald Andrews _ and Margaret wants to skive off and have some sort of  _ polyamorous  _ child bride marriage with  _ Edgar Evernever _ who am I to stop them?”

 

Alice didn’t really mean what she said, she was just hurt, but the glance between the teenagers didn’t go unnoticed by her. Nor, judging by the sound of his throat clearing, had it gone unnoticed by FP. 

 

“Listen to me, the both of you,” he said, his voice gruff. “Alice’s relationship with her children is  _ not _ to become your pet project, do I make myself clear? I understand that you two are friends with Betty, but you are  _ teenagers _ and not adults and I am so damn tired of you thinking that you are.”

 

“You were the one who made me the King--”

 

“I  _ needed _ to get control of Pops--”

 

“I changed my mind,” FP said. “You’re too young, too irresponsible. You’re not ready yet. I was blinded by the fact that you almost died, I wasn’t thinking clearly. If I could get the hell out of this damn trailer park, for you and your sister, I would.”

 

“As for you,” Alice said, directing her comments to Veronica. “I understand that you needed to gain control of Pops from your father,” she said. “Trust and believe, I understand. But you are _ a teenager _ who should be doing teenage things, not running a diner and a den of drugs and debauchery! A  _ speakeasy  _ in the basement of the town diner? Your parents are hoping that you will behave in an illegal manner, and then they can sink their claws in on you again. And I won’t have FP working there. He’s a  _ recovering  _ alcoholic!”

 

Veronica paled. “I didn’t know,” she said. “I...it never occured to me. I would have never--”

 

“The boy doesn’t like to talk about it,” FP said. “Probably figured you had enough ammunition against me because I ran the Serpents. I didn’t bring it up because I needed a job.”

 

Alice took another bite of the eggs. “I will deal with this,” she said. “I don’t care if you waitress at Pops,” she informed Veronica. “But you are working a sane, reasonable, schedule, especially once school resumes. Jughead,” she said, her gaze lingering on the boy. “Your father is allowed to amend his foolish decisions after he realizes he  _ let his teenager _ be in charge of a gang he should be dissuading him from participating in.” She sighed. 

 

“The solution to this is that we need to move back,” she said. “To Elm Street.” 

 

“I can’t make you do that, Alice,” FP said. 

 

“You’re not making me do anything,” she said, her tone flat. “Somehow I sense the teenagers that have taken over my home have redecorated it in my absence. And it just makes sense,” she added. “Especially with Jellybean coming home. Rather than us all squeezing into this trailer.” 

 

“Al--”

 

“You’re not going to change my mind on this, FP. I don’t want those busibodies that live on Elm Street calling the police on those poor, innocent, Serpents.” 

 

FP gulped. “You don’t actually think people would, do you?” 

 

“Of course they would,” she said, her tone dripping with bitterness. “There are more people like Harold than Fred on that street,” she sighed. “A house of unsupervised teenagers? I’m surprised they aren’t already in the lock up.”

 

He drew in a deep breath. “You heard her, boy,” he said. “Get to packing.” 


End file.
